1600 meters At a Time
by Angelwings228
Summary: Mile after mile, 1600 meters after the next, he's always there, at the end. USUK.


Hello all, this is the most random drabble I've done in a long long time. It's to be a 4 shot, eventually, with a possible epilogue. So, yes, I started track this winter/spring and I've got to say I love it. And I've yet to see a Hetalia fanfic about it so I thought why not?

Well, I'll get on with the story now. Please enjoy!

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><p>It was hot.<p>

Just so, damned, unbearably hot. Actually, the weather itself was quite nice, blue skies with alternating clouds, offering shadow in irregular patterns. A gentle wind blew as the ground, wet from the earlier shower that morning, dried. But for running, oh God, it was absolute hell. No one really likes running in anything above 65 degrees and the steadily climbing temperature did no help. Arthur fidgeted nervously from where he was sitting, on the home side of the state of the art track. The distance runner always got nervous around meets. He supposed he shouldn't have anymore, since he'd been running for a good long while now. But it was one of the most important meets of the season, and he had a bloody good excuse to be nervous. It was a home meet, and thank God for that. Working always kept his mind off of other things too trivial to keep around in one's head while running. Naturally, everyone was behind schedule. The field events were just wrapping up and the first calls for the boys 1600 meters rang out over the infield, finally signaling that the running events were starting. Arthur stretched and jogged down to where his teammates were. A good bit of them had already started their warm ups, doing dynamic stretches and jogging around. But he wasn't running this event, though he was a long distance runner. He preferred the 800 or even 400, depending on how speedy he felt.

"Anything I can do?" he asked his coach, a tall Greek man who was barely older than he.

The dark haired man looked up and smiled lazily. He was the most laid back, lazy, absolutely sleepy person Arthur had ever met. The entire team had been skeptical when they'd first met him. He'd greeted them with a sleepy " 'lo" and waved them off on two warm up laps. He slept a lot of the time during practice, when he wasn't giving advice, and sometimes wouldn't come at all. But when he ran, goodness, he was like the fucking wind. And Arthur was being damn serious too. Coach Karpusi, or simply Heracles as his athletes called him, shrugged sleepily, yawning. He looked around for a moment and shoved a clip board and pen in his direction.

"Use Clippy and take the times, will you Kirkland?" he asked

Arthur smiled and nodded. He loved that clipboard much more than he should have. It was old, coffee stained, and the standard metal and brown, but it had a history with every long distance athlete. Affectionately referred to as 'Clippy the Clipboard', it carried times dating back years. Arthur nodded consent and walked over to the start line. Im Yong Soo, a fellow long distance runner jogged up to him, tapping the watch on his wrist.

"I'm timing!" he called cheerfully.

Arthur chuckled. The Korean, a year younger than he, was totally spastic in an almost endearing way. Also a semi short runner like Arthur, he was half the life of the party, the other half belonging to a just as equally spastic self proclaimed Prussian who was running the mile.

Second, third, and final calls were announced and runners began to line up at the start/finish line. Arthur threw a calculating glance at the competition and motioned at Yong Soo to get ready, since a coach was preparing to set off the gun. With a loud shout and a few calls to the air, the man fired the gun, causing Arthur to wince. He still did that every single time, even after all these years. He yelled a quick good luck to his teammates and got to work.

**Lap 1**

Arthur tapped the clipboard nervously as the runners began to waterfall into an orderly line. He knew that by the time they came around to the start line again, that they'd be in different intervals.

"Good job" he called out absent mindedly, as the first few runners trickled in, not even knowing if a teammate had passed by.

"Thanks, bro"

The Brit's head snapped up. That voice was one he was not familiar with, and even then, no one ever answered back, the closest thing being an appreciative smile. He found himself looking at the figure of a tall, tan teen in another school's colors, dark grey and red. He ran with a bouncing form, long strides taking him far and his spikes practically ghosting over the rubber of the track. He was in 4th place, just behind the 3rd place runner. What a weirdo, Arthur thought as he was prompted by Yong Soo to write down the times for his passing teammates.

**Lap 2**

The next lap around, he was there again.

'_Jesus fucking Christ, his time's are insane'_ Arthur thought as he saw him approaching.

He lapped the first two runners in front of him and kept on going. He didn't show signs of hard breathing or loose form, though. Arthur let out a long breath as he glanced at his stop watch, counting the seconds in his head.

"I don't get anything this time?" the runner asked as he breezed by with an almost elegant ease.

"What?" Arthur practically squawked, flabbergasted.

The guy simply grinned as he charged into the curve. It left Arthur, who almost missed jotting down a time as a teammate passed, feeling a bit airy. It wasn't just a smile, it was a million watt smile that could have blinded anyone, _anyone_, within a good distance. Yong Soo blinked curiously at Arthur and then at the runner but made no comment. Both of them looked ahead just in time for the Korean to yell out a hurried time, hoping that they were right.

**Lap 3**

This was the hardest lap, as any seasoned coach would say. It was the one where most runners tend to lose their focus, they zone out and think about everything else that was NOT about running or times or even beating the person in front of them. It was the ghost lap and probably the most important to boot. Arthur let loose a loud 'whoop' as he cheered a teammate around a particularly lengthy curve. Yong Soo was forgetting that he was timing as he cheered on the runners with uninhibited enthusiasm.

"GO FOR IT. DO IT. NOW. _DESTROY_ IT" he yelled in an ear splitting roar that nearly sent Arthur doubling over in laughter.

It was just so ridiculous, the notion of 'destroying a lap' and the last two laps of this particular race had always gotten to him. The excitement was too much. He jotted down times, often totally screwing them up until a voice that was solidly American brought him back to the race.

"Aw, c'mon bro. You're gonna leave me hanging?"

Arthur noted that the runner's breathing was becoming much heavier, though he managed to keep his form in top shape.

"Just run, you idiot!" Arthur yelled at him, losing it for just a moment.

"Will do!" was the airless reply as he ran on.

Arthur shook his head in exasperation but couldn't bring himself to exactly bring himself to be mad or creeped out by the runner's familiarity.

**Lap 4, Final Lap**

The last lap was always the most interesting. Arthur and Yong Soo kept close watch on their teammates, keeping them going for this final lap. About midway, the Brit was asked to abandon his post as time taker and to write down placings as the race ended. A minute passed and Arthur turned his attention to the last stretch. The first few runners would be finishing up about now and there they were. It was 3 runners, all at a similar pace. Arthur knew that that would change the minute they crossed the line marking the last 100 meters. In that one footstep, speed rushed forwards, each sprinting for their own. Only, there was one that seemed to pull up ahead of the others. Arthur knew that feeling, when one ran as fast as they could but no matter what, there was someone faster. He was tall, blonde hair framing a handsome face, and piercing cerulean eyes that made Arthur's chest ache. Probably because they were brighter than sunlight and sweeter than sugar. But that wasn't the thing that drew Arthur's attention. Nor was it the fact that he had been the strange runner who had conversed with him all four laps.

He was laughing.

That total idiot was _laughing _as he sprinted those last 100 meters to the finish line. Arthur watched, amazed as he ripped through the final meters, exhilarated and completely out of breath. He half stumbled, half jogged to where the runners were being lined up. He came to a stop in front of Arthur, who was prepared to take placings, breathing harder than he'd let on at any time in the four short laps.

"Name?" Arthur asked, sketching out a brief chart

"Alfred F. Jones" the blonde replied, hands on his knees.

"School?"

"Hetalia"

"Thanks, and good job" the Brit concluded shortly as he motioned for the line to move forwards.

Alfred straightened and moved off, carried away by teammates coming to greet him. The line shuffled by with surprising speed, leaving Arthur with 19 names and schools to match. He scanned the list. He was somewhat pleased, considering his school had come in second and third which offered a good bit of points. But that first place. That time irked him. He'd never be able to run like that, not in an event like this. He turned to send the list off to the HQ tent in the middle of the in field when he found himself facing the lanky teen. Alfred, was it? His teammates were nowhere to be seen. The American shot a mischeivious grin at Arthur who tried to frown but struggled to keep the tugging smile off his own lips.

"Name?" Alfred asked, smiling as Arthur recognized the process.

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland" the blonde replied compliantly.

"School?"

"Ondo"

"Er, well, nice to meet you." The American said, suddenly embarrassed "I'm Alfred."

"So I'd heard" Arthur replied in a softly wry voice.

The two stood in front of each other, a little awkwardly. It was a bit strange really. They'd just met. They knew nothing about each other. Yet that race had sparked some sort of acknowledgement between them.

"_First call, boys 3200m run, please report to the in field. First call, boys 3200m run"_

They both startled to attention, remembering that they were in the infield.

"Well, that's me" Alfred said thoughtfully, looking up as if he could see the person who was voicing the events.

He glanced over to the start/finish line and then back to Arthur. His cerulean eyes sparked in amusement, mischief, and oh, what the hope? Arthur blinked, finding that he was quite light headed. And it definitely wasn't the weather this time around. Alfred raised an arched eyebrow in expectance and Arthur sighed.

"Fine. I'll be there"

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><p><strong>AN:** This is a super hurried chapter for me, so apologies for its crappiness. So here's a game for you guys: What do you think is the most cracktastic Hetalia couple out there? If it wins, I'll make a cameo of it! **REVIEW AND FEED MY PLOT BUNNIES!**


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